


Tricks Up His Sleeve

by TerryJune



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Having A Robotic Hand Can Be Fun But Can Also Suck Big Time, Light Angst, ScienceFitz, Season 3, Season 5 May, SillyThenSerious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18828346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerryJune/pseuds/TerryJune
Summary: Fitz exhaled, "Because. It’s a prosthetic, not a character from the Adams Family…it can’t just move around on its own...”Where Coulson asks Fitz for a favor and gets something else instead.OR How Phil got his SHIELD but missed out on something else.





	Tricks Up His Sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the story takes place sometime after "The Inside Man" (3x12) - the tag takes place midscene of Orientation II (5x2)

Fitz shook his head, “It can’t be done.” 

“Why not?” Coulson gestured to the prosthetic on the table between them, “It would have been really helpful while Talbot and I were in that cell.” 

Fitz exhaled, “Because. It’s a prosthetic, not a character from the Adams Family…it can’t just move around on its own.” 

Appreciating the reference, Coulson smirked, “That’s not what I’m saying.” He gestured, “I don’t want it to move on its own. I just want to be able to control it when it’s not snapped on.” 

Fitz’s head rocked to the side, eyes unfocused in thought. “I suppose I could create a remote you could control with your other hand.” He sighed, looking back to the other man, “But it would have to be quite subtle so that it wouldn’t be taken from you if you end up in a similar situation.” 

Coulson shrugged, “Why not skip the remote? Just control it the way I do now, with my mind?” 

“Just contr…ur mind…?” Fitz repeated softly, squinting across this table. Straightening he looked up, “Do you know how this works?” 

Coulson scoffed, “You know I don’t.” 

“Your brain doesn’t control this.” Fitz picked up the device on the table, “Your brain controls your nervous system.” He pointed to the back of his own head and down his arm, “Your nerves are like tiny electrical wires, firing when told to make your muscles twitch as you need them to in order to move.” 

He turned the prosthetic upside down, pointing to the metal junction, “This receives the electric messages sent from your brain to your nerves, intended for your hand.” He maintained eye contact, “The brain has a hard time comprehending the loss of a limb. It never stops sending signals.” 

The lighthearted interest dimmed from Coulson’s eyes, “I know.” 

Fitz closed his mouth, taking a beat to swallow the truth behind the heavy tone, unable to keep his eyes from drifting to other man’s empty sleeve and the daily reality it represented. He rolled his lips, “Uh…yes, yeah. So, you see, the junction has the Transia tech that translates the signals. It needs to be connected for you to control it.” 

A long beat paused before Coulson’s face forcibly brightened, “Well; it was just a thought.” He smiled, “If you have the chance, maybe make that remote control.” His smile shifted, “Could be fun. Halloween and such.” 

Fitz returned the smile before looking down to the device in his hands, “Y’know, if you can leave it with me for a few days, I…may have accessed the details for the small range force field tech that Stark developed.” 

“Force field?” Coulson tilted his head. 

“How cool would it be if the director of SHIELD had an actual shield?” Fitz bounced his eyebrows and tapped the prosthetic forearm. 

A glint of excitement flashed in Coulson’s eyes and he grinned, “That would be…way cool.” With an approving nod he turned to leave, hesitating at the at the edge of the lab. With a tap of the doorframe, he looked over his shoulder, “Fitz?” 

“Yes, Sir?” Fitz looked up.

Coulson’s jaw tensed, “You said that the brain talks to the prosthetic through the nerves.” He looked down to where his missing hand would be. “Can it, could you…make it work the other way around?” 

Fitz blinked, “The other way? What do y…” His eyes widened, “Oh…you mean…mean sensation…” He looked away, “You want to be able to feel with it.” 

The older man looked down, rocking his head to the side before he looked back up, eyes grey. 

Fitz looked between the inanimate hand and his own, weaker, non-tech, flesh and blood hand. He made a fist, consciously processing the myriad of sensations from the simple motion. He bit down hard on his lip, “I…” He looked up, blinking, “I just don’t think…It’s too...” 

Coulson replied with a half shrug and a twitch at the corner of his lips, “I figured. It’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry, Coulson…” The inadequacy clear on his face. 

An enigmatic smile forced itself on to Phil's face, “It was just a question.”

* * *

* * *

__

_"How's the leg?"_

_"I'm not going to lie."_

Phil knew that was as close to an admission as he'd get about the amount of pain she was in. The fact that she said that much spoke volumes.  

The need to comfort was automatic and knowing no words could do it, he reached out, placing his left hand on her shoulder; offering her all he had which was simply his presence.

It wasn't until she spoke again and he turned back that he realized she had returned the gesture, her fingers on his, thumb grazing in a soothing arc that he couldn't feel.

That moment was the first time he fully regretted not pressing Fitz to do the impossible; forget the mechanical strength and the built in coms and the backscatter and even the shield; Phil would give them all up and then some to be able to feel Melinda's fingers on his.


End file.
